


30 Day OTP Challenge

by Moransroar



Series: Fantastic Beasts drabbles [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moransroar/pseuds/Moransroar
Summary: For this 30 day OTP challenge I'm doing on Tumblr.





	1. Day 1

If there was one thing Credence remembered about Percival Graves besides his quiet and low voice often tinged with concern, it was the way he would hold his hand in one and smooth the fingertips of the other over the palm of his hand when he healed the cuts in his skin. Later, much later, when Percival was really Percival and his kindness was no longer a means to an end, Credence learned that he never _had_ to do that. He could have asked Credence to simply hold his hand up and hover his own over it to heal the wounds there. He could have taken out his wand and done it that way, too. And yet Mister Graves had always done it in a way that ensured contact.

Credence didn’t like to think about how that could have been a way to get him to trust the fake Percival. Instead, he liked to think about how the real Percival had picked up on that habit of his old, fake self, and continued to use them. Those ministrations with the knowledge that they were not used on him to get something in return were all the more important in helping Credence start to trust again, up to the point, even, that after a while of living together, Percival could place a hand on his shoulder or back without scaring the younger man out of his skin. It was improvement.

It hadn’t taken Percival long to realise that all Credence wanted was reassurance, but it had taken him a minute to see that when Credence ducked his head whenever he touched his neck, or when he sucked in a quiet breath when Percival lay a hand on his shoulder, that those were not signs of a man afraid to be touched – they were the only way Credence knew to act so that he might possibly be treated with kind hands _more_.

The moment he’d realised that was the moment Credence had started progressing with leaps and bounds.

His confidence improved, he learnt to do magic bit by little bit, and with much larger steps the moment he’d gotten a wand, he spoke up much more and knew how to voice his disagreement, or when necessary could even defend himself or someone else verbally with much more vigour than anyone had seen from him.

And all of that with a little kindness.

There were no more wounds on Credence’s body to heal. Save, perhaps, from the occasional papercut. Always something minor, and yet Credence’s first instinct (even after learning how to heal his own cuts and scrapes) was to seek out the man he knew would step up and help him.

Credence had once stepped into Percival’s office with his one hand cradled in the other and the smallest drop of blood on the palm of his hand. It was one of the first times he’d ever sought Percival out for it. Queenie – who had just stepped in to bring the Director his coffee – told Credence kindly that he didn’t have to worry, that it would heal in no time.

Credence had looked at her, and then at Percival, and his saddened expression when he’d murmured “Oh, alright”, had had Percival step out from behind his desk to take the boy’s hand in his own.

“Here, let me. Now you’re here anyway,” he’d said, and he had healed the little cut with a relaxed wave of his hand.

That should not have made Credence as happy as it had. He’d been beaming up at Percival, not even moving an inch to suggest he was about to take his hand back - like healing the little wound meant much more to him than anyone could have imagined. Percival had rested his free hand with which he’d casted magic on top of Credence’s so that their palms touched, and he squeezed his hands reassuringly. “There,” he’d said.

“There,” Credence had repeated.

When Credence hadn’t protested about Percival holding his hand, the latter had decided that he could get away with doing that more often. Meanwhile, Credence had decided that he could get away with pretending he couldn’t heal his own cuts and scrapes more often. If Percival was going to hold his hands like that every time, then being a little more reckless with parchment wouldn’t hurt one bit.

Queenie had quietly left the room, and made a mental note to casually ask Credence if perhaps he would like to bring Percival his coffee the next time.


	2. Day 2: Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of the 30 day OTP challenge I'm doing on Tumblr.  
> Cuddling.

_Credence._

He was comfortable. Oh yes, very comfortable indeed. Very warm, too, but not too much so. He was vaguely aware that the fireplace across the room must be dying out slowly, but the warmth that the fire inside it had been giving off still kept the room nice and toasty. The coals were still smouldering. He’d let the fire die. He could have kept it alive but he’d let it die, he’d not paid enough attention to it. His mind had been elsewhere completely.

_Credence…_

It had been a long day with quite a few chores and a hectic atmosphere at the Woolworth to boot, both men in the household exhausted by the end of it. Credence had made them hot cocoa and Percival had lit the fire and they’d settled on the couch and that was it. _That_ was comfortable.

_Credence?_

Credence blinked his eyes open blearily and looked around. The room was dark. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where the sound had come from, if he’d actually heard it at all or if it had been his imagination, and then came the question; _where am I?_

When his eyes adjusted to the dark, Credence could make out Percival’s silhouette against the single candle that was still lit somewhere across the room, looming over him with what looked like a smile.

“You fell asleep,” Percival said when he realised that Credence had awoken and the boy was rubbing at his eye with one hand, “The couch is hardly comfortable, so I thought I would wake you.”

“Thank you,” Credence replied sleepily. Actually, the couch had been very comfortable, with Mister Graves by his side. But now that he was standing there, one hand in his pocket, Credence realised that it was indeed a lot less comfortable without the man there beside him. Credence didn’t know what time it was but he was quite sure that asking Percival to join him again would be redundant, so he yawned, tried to stretch a little, his spine cracking as he curved his back into his stretch, and then he stood. He swayed on the spot for a moment and at the same time that his own hands went out to steady himself if it was necessary, he saw that Percival did the same thing, and they automatically reached for each other and grabbed each other’s arms.

They both smiled at each other and when Credence gave a nod to promise Percival he was steady on his own two feet, they both let go.

“Well, good night then,” Credence said.

“Good night, Credence,” Percival said with a touch to Credence’s cheek.

They both went their separate ways and disappeared into their respective bedrooms.

They both undressed, and put on their pyjamas, and they both brushed their teeth and washed their faces.

They both hesitated by the door of their bedrooms out into the hall, both wanting to cross the cool corridor and find the other’s door, both wanting to step inside and make an excuse to be with the other just that little bit longer.

And then they both went to bed.

Credence lay on his side and gathered the sheets to his chest, curling his arms and legs around it and pretending that it was a person he was pulling close to him. Percival lay on his side and grabbed hold of a pillow in much the same fashion. It was peaceful, and it was comfortable, even if it was not exactly the real thing. For now, it would have to do, if neither man exactly had the courage to bring up what they truly wanted.

Little did they know that exactly a week from that day, neither would be going to bed alone. They wouldn’t be saying goodnight in the hallway. Instead, they would be saying goodnight not only in the same bed, but on the very same pillow.


	3. Day 3: Watching a movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 for the 30 day OTP challenge.  
> Watching a movie.

When Grindelwald was apprehended, and Credence was finally given the chance at living a real, proper life, he developed an unparalleled love for the pictures. Ever since Percival took him to the theatre once, he’d spent almost every penny that he earned and did not put toward necessities on going to the movies. Buster Keaton made him laugh a thousand times, Ivor Novello had him on the edge of his seat, and Fred Niblo never failed to make him blush.

He loved going to the theatre with Percival the most. With company in general, really, but especially with Percival.  Ever since he’d taken him to that ghastly horror film Faust Credence knew that it was best to have someone there with you in case the subject of the film took a turn that he did not expect. He’d walked out of the theatre once, too. Credence wasn’t so keen on thrillers. The only reason he agreed to going there with Percival was because he could grab a hold of the other man’s arm in particularly terrifying moments and Mister Graves wouldn’t bat an eye.

No, Credence much preferred romantic films, or comedies. But every time Percival would suggest they see something together Credence couldn’t bring himself to suggest something of the sort instead of what the other man usually came up with.

“London After Midnight has been the talk of the town,” Mister Graves brought up during dinner one night, when they were both sitting at the table in the dining room, almost finished with supper. Since Percival had picked up on Credence’s love for the pictures he’d made it a habit to suggest they go together. It both meant that Credence could keep his money and save it for something else, and Percival liked to think that the boy enjoyed going to the theatre with him. Fact of the matter was that he enjoyed going with Credence quite a lot, too. Especially to thrillers.

Credence stabbed at a bean with his fork and considered it. Percival could see that he was hesitant, as if weighing his options, whereas usually he was prone to agree to the first thing he suggested. This was good. This was progress. They had all seen Credence learn and grow with leaps and bounds but going against something someone said or voicing a differing opinion seemed to still be difficult for him, so this, now, was progress. Mister Graves watched the boy mull over his words.

“Perhaps…” Credence started slowly. He looked hesitant, but with an encouraging hum from the man across the table, he managed to finish his sentence, “…You would like to go see The Jazz Singer with me instead?”

The Jazz Singer. Percival’s eyebrows rose a little bit, intrigued more than anything. “They sing in that, don’t they? And talk. I mean, really talk.”

Credence nodded with a mouth full of food, looking a tad uncertain. Much to his surprise, Mister Graves leaned back and smiled. “Alright,” he said, “I’d like to see that with my own two eyes. Let’s see that one.”

 

“A half dollar for a picture. Just to see someone speak on screen.”

Percival was shaking his head as they went inside, but Credence was buzzing. He was far too enthusiastic about the fact that they’d really hear the people on the screen talk to care about how much it had cost. A dollar for two tickets was quite a lot indeed, but with this technology? It didn’t seem strange to him.

They stepped away from the ticket booth and into the hall, up the grand staircase, and through double doors to find seats. Credence practically dragged Percival along to sit as close to the front as they could. The lights went out, and the screen lit up, the familiar whirring of the projector far behind them, and before them the story came alive.

The movie, even for Percival’s standards, was rather good. The technology, against his expectations, blew his mind as much as it did Credence’s.

What was even better than the story, the effects, getting to hear the music and the voices and the singing directly from the screen, though, was Credence. The way his face lit up when the picture started, and how that awestruck expression barely seemed to change during the movie. Percival liked watching that and the twinkle in Credence’s eye much more than he liked paying attention to what was going on right in front of them.

Credence was very clearly moved. By the end of the movie, when Percival had told himself off for only paying attention to the boy next to him and was watching the screen instead, he could see from the corner of his eye that there was a tear on Credence’s cheek as the main character sang on the big screen. Percival didn’t ask why, he didn’t comment on it, just reached across the arm rest to put his hand discreetly over the other man’s.

 

When they left, Credence was a little quiet. Pensive, Percival supposed. The moment they were alone and away from the bustle of the busier streets, he did the brave thing and reached for Credence’s hand. The boy looked up as if Percival had disrupted a train of thought but it didn’t bother him, just startled him a little bit.

“Did you like that?” Percival asked softly.

Credence nodded enthusiastically before he buried his chin into the scarf around his neck. “Did you?” He murmured through the fabric.  

Percival smiled for a moment, like he knew something that Credence didn’t, and squeezed Credence’s hand in his own.

“Yes, Credence. I enjoyed it very much.”


	4. Day 4: On a date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 of the 30 day OTP challenge.  
> On a date.

The sharp crack of apparition sounded through the small apartment and suddenly Queenie knew why Credence had been holed up in his bedroom for the majority of the night, his thoughts fussy and his closet an absolute mess.

She turned around from where she stood at the little fireplace folding laundry with delicate flicks of her wand and fixed a smile on a very proper-looking Percival.

He’d been coming to their little home more often lately, and though Queenie really tried to stay out of Credence’s head for most of it (Percival’s thoughts were impenetrable anyway, there wasn’t even any use in trying at all), she couldn’t help but pick up on the subtle changes in the relationship between the two. You didn’t have to be a legilimens to see what was happening. Tina wasn’t so quick to catch up on that front, but then it had taken her ages to realise that that Scamander boy liked her, too, so Queenie didn’t blame her.

“Hello, Percy,” she said. Shortly into these little visits Mister Graves had insisted that he be called Percival outside of the office, it seemed too formal to be called Mister Graves among friends, and Queenie had quickly progressed to the nickname she’d given him. Credence himself was still far too shy to call him that, he even still had some trouble calling him by his first name sometimes, but Queenie reckoned that Percival didn’t mind that much as long as it was Credence. As for Tina, she just mostly tried to stay out of their way whenever her boss was there. Too uncomfortable, she’d told her sister.

Percival gave her a smile as he tucked his wand back into the holster on his hip. If Queenie didn’t know any better she’d say he was nervous, and if that wasn’t any indication for why he was there then she didn’t know anymore either.

“You look like you’re goin’ out somewhere real fancy tonight,” she remarked, but Percival didn’t have time to answer that, or dodge the question, because his saviour suddenly stood in the doorway in a suit that even Queenie hadn’t seen him wear before and she’d gone shopping with him many times before to get his wardrobe nicely filled up. Poor boy had stood on their doorstep with nothing but the clothes on his back and that, of course, was a disaster in itself.

And now he stood tall in clothes that fit him well, looking healthier and happier than ever. Queenie looked to Percival and saw a look on his face that would make Tina blush at the mere mention.

The silence was broken by Credence’s hesitant words, “Is this okay? I can put on something else…”

But Percival shook his head and was about to say something before he stopped himself, and instead said, “This is perfect.”

Queenie stood by as if watching a moving picture on the big screen right in front of her nose. It reminded her of the kind of scene wherein the hero of the story sees the girl dressed up all pretty for the first time, and he just can’t take his eyes off her. Percival didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off Credence, either, and for a few more moments nobody moved and nobody said anything. Queenie most of all, for fear of breaking some kind of spell. But the silence soon became unbearable, or what became most unbearable was the fact that they were clearly stalling what she assumed was going to be their first actual date in favour of eating each other up with eyes alone.

So Queenie delicately cleared her throat, and suddenly both men were moving. Credence stepped up to Queenie to kiss her cheek before he moved to Percival, who had moved a little bit towards the door so not to swipe anything disapparating away.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” Credence said after he’d brushed that kiss to Queenie’s cheek, “I ah—I’ll try to be home before midnight, though.”

Queenie took his chin between her fingers and scrunched up her nose fondly at him, “You just go out and enjoy yourself, honey. And if you don’t come home, I’m sure I’ll find out in the morning.”

When Credence went to Percival’s side he looked redder than Queenie had ever seen him, but no less happy. Percival offered his arm, and Credence looped his own around it, and the boy could barely lift his hand in a wave before they were gone and the room was quiet again.

When Queenie turned back to her laundry, it was with another smile.

“Those boys,” she sighed to herself, “I hope they know how lucky they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back....ish! It's been a while, I know. I was so stuck on this one you have no idea. I hope to be updating more regularly from now on again. At least for a couple of days :)


	5. Day 5: Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 of the 30 day OTP challenge.  
> Kissing.

“ _Sweet Mercy Lewis_.”

Tina very nearly dropped the scroll of parchment she’d been holding in her hurry to get out of the room and fling the door shut behind her. She leaned against it when it clicked into the lock. She should have knocked. Oh, she really should have knocked.

Inside the room, Credence – wide-eyed and breathing hard – scrambled to slide off the desk he’d been sat on to rush to the woman outside. He wanted desperately to apologise, he knew how embarrassed he’d be if he walked into Newt and her like that.

Percival looked ruffled but when his look of annoyance at the disturbance passed he looked pleased and infuriatingly calm about the situation. As if they’d not just been walked into mid-kiss with grabbing hands in places that really should only be grabbed at in the bedroom. The man stood back to give Credence some space but caught him by the arm before he rushed to the door, gently coaxing him back against the desk so that he could kiss his cheek and straighten his shirt.

“Come here,” Percival said soothingly, though he didn’t seem to be able to hide a smile. Was he really that unfazed or was he just so very proud of how Credence was his that he didn’t mind who knew?

“This is horrible,” Credence moaned, “Didn’t I lock the door behind me? I thought I’d locked the door behind me.”

Percival gave him a smile and another small kiss, “You did. The No-Maj way.”

Credence eyed the other sceptically for a moment, “So why didn’t you lock it?”

The other ducked his head and nipped at the lobe of Credence’s ear and for a moment the boy knew not what had stopped them in the first place and who was still standing outside against the door with a wildly beating heart. “Because,” Percival purred, “I was distracted.”

Credence squirmed out from under the man who loomed over him and put some professional distance between them so that Mister Graves could call Tina into the room. She took a moment and when she did enter she looked positively flustered, trying to keep her eyes down as much as Credence was doing as she came over to the desk to hand her boss the parchment with a quiet mutter of explanation.

“I’m sorry for—disturbing you. I realise I should have knocked,” she said to the desk more than to the people standing behind it. If she’d looked up she would have seen that Percival’s hair was sticking up at all angles from how many times Credence’s fingers had passed through it. But she didn’t. And maybe that was for the best.

“Yes. Yes, you should have.” Mister Graves’ voice was calm but Credence could hear a smattering of amusement in there somewhere. Tina left the room when she was dismissed and the parchment hit the desk with a soft thud. Credence looked up.

Percival had already moved closer and was bringing his hands up to cup Credence’s face between his palms, and Credence let him.

“Where were we?” Mister Graves murmured, their lips now barely a breath apart, making Credence’s heart flutter wildly against his ribs. He put a finger on Percival’s lips, trapping the digit between them, before he could kiss him.

“Did you lock the door this time?”

With a grumble, Percival aimed a hand at the door and muttered a spell against Credence’s finger, and the moment Credence lowered his hand Percival was kissing him again.

Outside of Percival’s office, news travelled fast, and nobody dared to knock on the Director’s office for the rest of the day.


	6. Day 6: Wearing eachother's clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 of the 30 day OTP challenge.  
> Wearing eachother's clothes.

Percival remembered putting his coat around Credence’s shaking shoulders on a cold night sometimes. The boy had enjoyed it so much that he had subtly – or rather, not so subtly – tried to find reasons to wear the thing more often, or get it handed by Percival on more occasions. Percival supposed that something about it must have been a comfort to him. Hell, there are times where he himself had found great comfort in its weight, the smell and the fabric. He always assumed that it wasn’t much different for Credence.

Though Credence had often borrowed items of clothing from Percival, that had never happened the other way around. The biggest reason for this was because Percival was convinced that he’d tear out of anything that he might try on, and now that Credence had a wardrobe full of perfectly tailored shirts and pants, he didn’t want to bring ruin upon the beautiful assortment. Plus, Mister Graves very much liked that he could come home and find Credence lounging about on the sofa, reading one of his spell books, drowned in one of Percival’s softest union suits.

Credence was gone to help Jacob in his bakery on a Saturday morning, his first proper job and something he seemed to enjoy greatly, when Percival stepped into the boy’s bedroom to deposit some more warm socks and undershirts he’d recently bought onto his bed. Outside it was getting colder and colder again, and they seemed to be approaching a very harsh winter, so it was better to be safe than sorry. When Percival turned to leave, he found Credence’s wardrobe open. He stepped up to it with the intention of closing the door on his way out, but a soft, dark burgundy scarf hanging on the inside of one of the doors caught his attention. A gift from Queenie last winter, one of the first presents Credence had received as a free man, and something he still cherished. He wore it so often that Percival was surprised to even find it hanging in his closet. Perhaps today Credence had chosen his blue one instead.

Percival could barely resist. He put his fingers to the fabric and drifted them down to the neatly stitched ends. It was knit in a beautiful pattern, the wool thick and soft in his hands. No wonder Credence liked to wear it so often, even around the house when it was particularly chilly. He picked it up with both hands and slowly pressed his nose into it to breathe in, and sure enough, what he found there was Credence’s cologne – fresh and subtle and very much Credence.

Percival didn’t know what made him so bold as to take the scarf off the hook and drape it around his neck. Perhaps it was his curiosity getting the best of him, perhaps it was the fact that Credence wasn’t home and he could do virtually whatever he wanted to. It seemed as if the scarf was even softer around his neck than it was on the hook in the wardrobe, and Percival wound it slowly around his throat, flicking the end over his shoulder the way Credence liked to wear it. He pressed his nose into the fabric and found Credence’s scent there again, comforting and ever present. He figured he could wear it for a little while as he went about the house doing some tasks and chores, maybe some light reading. He’d take it off and put it back before Credence was bound to come home from his morning at the bakery.

But that’s not what Percival did. By the time Credence stepped through their front door and squirmed out of his coat to go find the warmth of the fireplace and warm the chill off his bones, Percival had all but forgotten that he was wearing the thing.

He ducked into the sitting room to greet Credence with a mug of cocoa, which Credence thanked him for and wrapped his hands around greedily, their routine every Saturday. The exact same moment that Credence turned back around to look at the scarf around Percival’s neck with a vaguely confused look in his eyes, Percival suddenly remembered that he was even wearing it in the first place.

He was quick to come up with an excuse, “I saw you left it in your closet and thought I might fetch it for you. It will help get you warm quicker.” It was an offer, a question, and Percival reached to unwind the scarf from around his neck.

Credence’s eyes shone as he stood to come join the other man where he’d sat down on the couch. He put his cocoa down and stopped Percival’s hand unwinding the scarf with a hand of his own.

“I’m okay,” he said, “I’ll warm up soon enough.” And then, after a pause, and with a shy sort of smile, “It suits you.”

Neither man knew who blushed harder in that moment.

“We could wear it together,” Percival found himself suggesting, already reaching over to drape the end he’d unwound from his throat over the back of Credence’s neck.

And much to his surprise, the boy smiled, leaned in, and settled himself against Percival’s side. Percival proceeded to wrap not only the scarf around Credence, but also his arm, pulling him close with it.

They sat in silence for a moment, their eyes on the fireplace. Percival could see, from the corner of his eye, that Credence nuzzled his nose into the scarf the same way he had done in Credence’s bedroom a few hours ago.

“It smells nice,” he heard Credence murmur. Percival hummed to agree, because it did indeed smell nice, it smelled like Credence, when the boy added an even quieter, “Smells like you.” And the best thing about that utterance was the fact that Credence looked so _happy_ about it.

“Now you know how I feel when you’ve worn my coat,” Percival said softly into Credence’s hair.

“Now I know,” Credence echoed.

The Saturday after that, when Percival did his usual run with the laundry and stepped into Credence’s bedroom to place his laundry on his bed, he found the scarf lying on the foot end. There was a little piece of parchment on top, a single word scribbled in Credence’s scraggy handwriting. Percival knew exactly what he had to do.

_Please._


End file.
